


to wonder

by raffinit



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Feels, Gen, Light Angst, angsty feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 21:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8506084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raffinit/pseuds/raffinit
Summary: "Which life is more fucked-up? This one, or the last?"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peppermint_smile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermint_smile/gifts), [cannedpeaches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannedpeaches/gifts).



> Literally a blurb I found buried inside my TLOU Google Drive folder from like 2013 and I thought you purty ladies would like a peek~
> 
> <3
> 
> Love you idiots

They're almost too fucked up to function. It's a cliche worn into the ground and then some, but there are lesser people who have left from lesser reasons. There's no other way of putting it; he sees it in the way they move together, in a world so turned on its head that he can't even remember what it was like before anymore - when he wasn't breaking bones and shooting bullets into people's skulls every other hour of the day. Mortgages, taxes, bills; she mentions once if this world isn't the fucked up one - but the time when pieces of paper could strike fear into the bravest of men.   
  
"That's fucked up," she says one day, as she pulls an arrow out of a mangled body. "Not this place. Not here."  
  
Here they survive, she tells him. Like the times before computers and viruses and health regulations - man created fire and blade and the wheel, and that was all he needed. Here they need fire and blade and steel, and they breathe with the rising of sun each day.   
  
"Y'think this is the way to live?" he counters, on the day he has to lift her battered body off the counter, stitches fresh and bruises tender, and lays her gently on their spring-thin mattress. "Reckless and starving and bleeding all over the streets?"  
  
She grins crookedly at him, through split lips and over the freckled shoulder that bleeds just a touch from meetings with the calloused concrete. "What's not to love about it? I breathe, and you breathe, and that's all that matters."  
  
He wonders at night, why he can't quite bring himself to miss his old life.


End file.
